


Mecone

by MayaMarkova



Series: The Prophecies of Prometheus [3]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Animal Sacrifice, Gen, Trick at Mecone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaMarkova/pseuds/MayaMarkova
Summary: Proceedings of the Second Mecone Conference, where Prometheus tricked Zeus and saved mankind from protein malnutrition.
Series: The Prophecies of Prometheus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995868
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The host coming down from Olympus could be seen from afar in the morning sun. They were about a hundred in total – Olympian gods, river gods and even satyrs. Zeus was at the head, with Apollo at his right side and Hermes at his left side, immediately followed by Ares and Kratos. The latter was carrying a giant backpack with two or three thunderbolt launchers jutting. Prometheus saw Hephaestus a little behind, among the common folk, and went to him. They were friends, but had not met in ages. The titan was not welcome on Olympus, and Hephaestus avoided travel because his legs had been crippled by his loving parents. He was now riding a donkey and so was able to keep pace.

After greeting each other, the two friends started talking about the humans and other work projects, past and future. But they both were apparently thinking of something else. It was Hephaestus who finally asked about it:

‘Have you seen Peneus and Creusa lately?’

‘Yes, actually the other day.’

‘How are they?’

‘They are resilient. But you don’t expect me to say that they are just fine, do you? Their hearts are broken.’

‘My father thinks that once someone is mortal, it matters little when he will die. We had to talk him into letting Peneus stay home.’

‘Nice that you did it. It’s unfortunate, however, that he didn’t also leave the culprit at home. Though I understand it would be awkward, given that he has himself done something very similar. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.’

Prometheus was hinting at Zeus’ pursuit of Asteria which had caused her death under almost the same circumstances as Daphne. This was a forbidden subject. Immortals mentioned it only rarely and with great caution not to be overheard. Hephaestus understood the allusion at once and, though also a son of Zeus, did not even think to be offended. He was only afraid for his friend, though, strictly speaking, the ban had not been violated because Asteria’s name had not been mentioned. He looked around and whispered into Prometheus’ ear:

‘Don’t get angry, this will not bring the girl back! It can only earn you trouble if someone hears you. Did your wife receive a message recently?’

‘Yes, she did, and I read it also.’

‘Very well, don’t forget it then. I must go to my father now.’

With this, Hephaestus pushed his donkey to move forward to the front of the host.

When they reached the plain and left the hills behind, they stopped to rest. Prometheus decided this was an opportunity to engage Zeus with his problem. He hated begging the Thunderer for anything, and did not really expect it to help. His reluctance was so strong that walking toward Zeus felt like swimming against a current. He stopped for a moment to remind himself why he was obliged to try. His father and his brother Menoetius had been imprisoned since the end of the war, quite a long time already. They were kept in Tartarus, the lowest level of the cave that Cronus had used as a prison, under the care of Zeus’ brother Hades who lived above them in the same cave. Menoetius had been struck by Zeus’ thunderbolt in the last battle. Hades had reassured Prometheus that his brother could still walk and move his hands somewhat and had kept his eyesight; as for the other consequences of the thunderbolt, ‘only fools pay attention to one’s appearance, don’t they?’ At least, Menoetius was allowed to move his limbs freely. He and the maiden Arke alone were given this mercy. The other prisoners were bound with heavy chains. Zeus had ordered so and had explained that it was for their own good. Otherwise, they could be tempted to seek an escape route through the unexplored long tunnels of the cave, get lost in its deep and suffer terribly.

Prometheus had first raised the question ten years after the end of the war. He had told Zeus that now, as peace reigned again and his throne was secure, he could release Iapetus and Menoetius. He had even mentioned Arke. Zeus had replied that it was too early for this and that he could ask only for his closest kin, not for anyone else. After some time, Prometheus had repeated his request about his father and brother. The Thunderer had said, ‘Why do you alone, of all relations of the prisoners, keep bothering me with such an arrogant wish? They shall be released when I say, if at all.’ Prometheus had waited for some years and then had asked again as he was giving Zeus the annual report of his work. Zeus had refused angrily and had ordered Prometheus in the future to hand his report to Hermes rather than bring it personally. This way, he had effectively cut off the annoying titan. The access to Zeus’ halls was guarded by the muscular siblings Kratos and Bia, and they did not let random suppliants in. However, Zeus was not in his halls now. He was standing in the open plain and Kratos could not guard him from all sides, as Bia had been left behind with the other goddesses.

‘Hail Zeus!’ Prometheus greeted. ‘I beg for your attention for a moment.’

‘Stand back!’ Kratos barked. ‘Zeus the Thunderer is busy. Write your request and he will see it when he can.’

‘I am asking him to listen to me for a moment.’

‘The king of the gods has no time to waste on a titan whose place is in Tartarus with his kin,’ snapped Kratos. He was also a titan of course, and son of a prisoner, but apparently regarded himself as a higher being due to his closeness to Zeus. His father Pallas had fought for Cronus and was in Tartarus now. So Kratos and his sister Bia were calling themselves “children of Styx” after their mother, as if they had been born without a father, like water fleas in summertime. They were unflinchingly loyal to Zeus, and he trusted them.

‘First, we all here are kin,’ Prometheus replied. ‘Second, you are nobody to judge me. And third, I joined Zeus and fought for him long before you, at a moment when it was not yet clear who would win. Zeus, will you listen to me?’

Although they were not talking loud, there was already a growing circle of onlookers. Zeus looked at them and apparently realized that he had to speak, because Prometheus was not going anywhere.

‘Behave yourself, son of Iapetus!’ he intervened. ‘It is true that you took my side and did what you could. Not that it was much, given your fear of blood. Even your brother Epimetheus would have been more useful if he had volunteered. We would win as well without you, maybe even faster. Anyway, the war ended long ago, and your participation does not entitle you to haughty talk and wasting my time.’

Prometheus would be the first to admit that he was a pathetic warrior. He actually often tried to comfort himself that his support for Zeus had not really made any difference. But he was not going to accept the same words from Zeus.

‘All “would”s and “maybe”s are empty talk,’ he replied. ‘If we are going to throw them around, I can say that you would not win without me. Can you prove me wrong? There is no way to turn time back and repeat the war without me at your side, even if we wish. And it is pointless to argue about this. As I see, our deeds during the war no longer matter to you. So be it! I beg you then, as your power is stable now, to release my father and my brother Menoetius.’

Apollo stepped out of the quiet circle of the audience and stood next to his father. Zeus seemed to pay no attention. He was looking at Prometheus with a frown on his face. Finally, he spoke:

‘I have strictly banned asking for the release of the imprisoned titans. Now, go away!’

So that was that, because back when Zeus was the Thunderer, his strict bans were like laws of nature. Nobody dared to break them – until Prometheus did, but the day had not come yet. So he said nothing and was about to turn back. But at that moment, Apollo opened his mouth.

‘Son of Iapetus, it is too late to champion your father’s lost cause.’

Prometheus wanted to answer loudly and vent his anger, but remembered Hebe’s warning and his promise to Pronoia and restrained himself. Keeping his voice low, he said:

‘I have no business with you, son of Leto. Mind your lyre.’

‘So you consider my son unworthy to converse with you?’ Zeus asked, with a menacing tone in his voice. For Prometheus, this was the final drop that tipped the scale. He looked into the eyes of Zeus and answered, stressing on every word:

‘It’s not about whose son he is. I just don’t feel like conversing with murderers.’

‘Prometheus, in the name of Styx, calm down!’ cried Hephaestus. Limping, he approached his friend.

‘I am absolutely calm.’

‘Stop this now, both of you!’ Ares intervened, looking first at Apollo and then at the titan. But neither would listen to him.

‘Are you calling me a murderer?’ shouted Apollo.

‘Of course I am,’ Prometheus replied. ‘This is a common truth. Or where are Marsyas and Daphne now?’

An approving noise came from the back rows occupied by those lower in the hierarchy. Comments such as “Bravo!”, “Someone had to tell him” and others in the same line could be heard.

‘Daphne was not killed!’ Apollo stated. ‘She ran away from me and turned into a laurel tree, because she was too shy.’

This arrogance made Prometheus speechless. He looked at the viewers and saw doubt in their eyes. Most of them were ignorant, many even illiterate, unable to read scripts of knowledge. So they harbored nonsensical beliefs about all sorts of transformations as well as spontaneous generation even of complex beings. After all, if caterpillars could undergo a metamorphosis into butterflies and tadpoles into frogs, why couldn’t a nymph become a tree? Hadn’t Asteria transformed herself into an island?

‘A laurel tree?’ explaimed Prometheus when he finally regained speech. ‘Swear that this is true! But you cannot.’

During the war, as soon as Styx joined the ranks of Zeus, he brought his followers to the sources of her river. At his order, each of the gods immersed his right hand and took upon himself from now on to speak only the truth after swearing by the water of Styx. The dark icy water was apparently neurotoxic, for Prometheus felt cold numbness climbing up to his neck and could not move his arm all day. It was thought that lying under oath would leave the liar paralyzed for a long time, but this was not yet known with certainty, because nobody had taken the chance. Zeus often abused the oath to coerce others, but he was also bound by it. And it was exactly because of Prometheus, who had said, ‘So by this oath we shall be loyal to you and you to us?’ Only then had the others realized that their leader had not immersed his hand, and had forced him to do it. This was maybe the first time when Zeus had looked at Prometheus with enmity.

‘I haven’t even touched her!’ Apollo shouted.

‘But it happened because of you! And what about Marsyas, will you say that you haven’t touched him also?’

‘We had agreed that the winner would do with the loser whatever he pleases. And I gave Marsyas a just punishment for his insolence.’

‘You will pay for this one day. And also for the cheating by which you won.’

‘Take back your words immediately!’

‘To turn the instruments upside down was cheating. And the mere fact that your sisters were arbiters should make the contest invalid. But never mind. You are the greatest musician in the world – who will risk his skin to say otherwise? The best ever master of the lyre. And also of the knife.’

At that moment Zeus, who had listened to the quarrel in stunned silence, finally moved. He called his sons, who obeyed reluctantly. Then turned to Prometheus:

‘Your talk is either insane or treacherous. Coming from you, neither should be a surprise. Swear fealty to me, now, to prove that you are not becoming a traitor again!’

‘You should not ask this from me. Nor from anyone else, for that matter. If you want us to be loyal to you, give us justice! This is what we want, and you owe it to us.’

‘Who is the “we” you are talking about?’

‘You are asking who wants justice?’ Prometheus looked at the audience. ‘Is there anybody who doesn’t?’ The viewers – river gods like Peneus, satyrs like Marsyas – remained silent. He turned to the Zeus again. ‘Stop the murders, do not leave them without retribution! What goes around comes around, and you will regret it someday.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘No, just foretelling.’ 

Prometheus was lying, because he was not foreseeing anything of this sort. His prophetic gift was silent now, not giving him a clue even about the much more pressing question whether he would be thunderbolted now or not. He saw Zeus give a sign to Kratos, who brought out a thunderbolt. Prometheus took off his backpack and threw it aside. Now, he had no metal objects on his body. The clothing of that time was made to be fastened without any metal buttons or buckles, which led to the curious designs that amuse today’s youths when they look at old paintings. And it was not just hotheads like Prometheus who were taking this precaution but everyone save Zeus, even his own children.

To be fair, Zeus was not throwing thunderbolts around, and actually hadn’t used one against any god since he had struck Menoetius. He was looking reluctant now, and in no haste to take the thunderbolt. Hephaestus used his hesitation and whispered something to him. Zeus nodded and said to Prometheus:

‘I should have summoned your brother instead of you. He has far more sense. Go to the back!’ Then he turned to the others. ‘Enough empty talk! March on!’

Prometheus turned aside, took his backpack and went to the rear. The others stepped back in front of him, leaving him in empty space. He would later see humans treat the same way those who had a contagious disease.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hephaestus tries to calm down his friend Prometheus, with the opposite effect.

The sun was setting when they reached Mecone. They settled to camp in a beautiful green plain, sprinkled with bright red poppies. There was a stream flowing nearby. They were going to spend the night here and meet the humans the next day.

Nobody had approached Prometheus during the march, but now Hephaestus was coming to him. He was using a stick as a support as he walked. He was looking tired and unhappy, and his limp was worse than Prometheus remembered it.

‘Sit down on my backpack,’ said Prometheus. ‘Do you want bread? Or an apple?’

Hephaestus sat down but declined the offer. He sighed, looked into the eyes of Prometheus and said:

‘There is one thing I must acknowledge: with you, there is no boredom!’ He paused, then continued: ‘You made Ares, of all people, become a peacemaker! How could you make such a scene? And it was pointless. No matter what you say, Marsyas and Daphne are dead!’

‘It was not me who started the quarrel. I wanted just to plead for my father and brother.’

‘And you helped them wonderfully, didn’t you? I don’t think they will be delighted if you join them in Tartarus, as you seem to wish.’

‘I do not wish it, but it may happen anyway. In this case, I beg you to see that my family members have something to eat. I mean, the few who are still free.’

‘I am trying to bring you to your senses, not to drive you into desperation!’

‘It is your father who should come to his senses. Because he seems to have gone mad. You saw how he wanted to thunderbolt me for speaking my mind. Not to mention that at such a close distance, everyone would be in danger. Was this what you told him?’

‘Yes, it was, and thankfully he listened to me. He is not quite as mad as you think. He knows you and would not be so angry if you had said the same things in private. The problem was that you defied him in front of an audience of a hundred.’

‘You know that he gives me exactly zero opportunity to talk in private.’

‘You are right here. And also about Apollo starting the quarrel. See, Father Zeus knew that you had no way to know about the ban, except by your prophetic gift, in which he does not really believe…’

‘This ban… did he impose it because others have also asked him to release the prisoners? Because he had told me before that I was the only one.’

‘You were not. Half the population of Olympus kept begging him. Leto, Mnemosyne, the Muses, Iris, even Themis, which says a lot. So he was fed up and banned this subject. He did not announce the ban beyond Olympus, so he was not angry with you for breaking it. But unfortunately Apollo decided to boss you around… You had to show restraint.’

‘Apollo had to show restraint. In fact, your father had to restrain his murderous brat, instead of letting him loose on us.’

‘He wanted all Olympians to attend the meeting, because we are not that many.’

‘I see. Also, a wonderful reason to drag you on a long journey. It is too much strain for you. I have never seen you limp so badly.’

‘Oh, it is not from the quest. I think you have not seen me walking since Father Zeus threw me off Olympus.’

‘Of course I have! He threw you before you even had the chance to walk.’

‘I mean the second time.’

‘He has thrown you down the mountain again?’ Prometheus could hardly believe his ears.

‘Yes. Actually, ordered Kratos and Bia to do it, because I was too heavy for him. I am lucky that I didn’t suffer a worse damage.’

‘So throwing you down has become a habit of his?’ Prometheus was furious. ‘This is too much even for him! Leave him, get off his eyes! Come to live with me! Next time, you will break your skull or backbone.’

‘What about Aphrodite?’

‘Of course, she is also welcome. And if she doesn’t want, good riddance! This so-called marriage of yours will not last anyway.’

Prometheus’ prophecies often came to his mind this way, in the middle of some passionate discussion, and he would tell them without really realizing what he was saying. His listener usually remained oblivious as well. Now, neither of the two friends paid any attention to the prophecy. Maybe Hephaestus had already heard the same prediction from various gods, most of them without any prophetic gift.

‘Won’t your house be a little narrow for so many tenants?’ he asked with a nervous laughter. Prometheus, however, didn’t feel like laughing.

‘I cannot offer you the luxury of your golden cage, but I can share with you what I have.’

‘Thank you, but I am not going to move out. Let me now deliver to you an order by Father Zeus. He calls you at sunrise tomorrow. He told me only as much. I have no idea what exactly he intends. I fear for you, he is very angry at you.’

‘And I am angry at him.’

‘I understand you, he insulted you. But you must restrain your anger. You are in danger, because he has power over you.’

‘I ignore his insults, because he has talked like this ever since he took power. But I am fed up with outrages that he either does personally or excuses and encourages! If he had intervened after the killing of Marsyas, we’d still have Daphne. Something must be done!’

‘Please don’t talk like this! It can only make things worse. We tried to do something once, and this was why I flew off Olympus.’

‘Will you tell me the story?’ Prometheus felt respect. He hadn’t thought the Olympians capable to do something about Zeus’ abuse of power.

‘Some other time.’ Hephaestus shivered. The mere memory apparently filled him with horror. He sighed and continued, ‘There is no hope to change anything, and the sooner you accept it, the better. If there was any chance, it is long gone. You shouldn’t have helped him come to power.’

‘Do you really think so? If he hadn’t come to power, maybe he wouldn’t have married your mother and you wouldn’t have been born.’

‘There are things more important than my existence. Anyway, it’s too late to do anything. Father Zeus has all the power and is too clever to let anyone take it away from him. I wanted to bring you to him now for reconciliation. But in your current mood, it’s better not to go.’

‘You are right. Let’s leave it for tomorrow. They say morning is wiser than evening.’

Hephaestus said something sarcastic about the wisdom of one particular recent morning, then wished his friend good night and went away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prometheus becomes the First Sacrificer.

_The next morning, as I was walking to Zeus, I passed by the human delegation. These men – their group was also all-male – looked pathetic. Their skin was wrinkled, their backbones bent, their joints swollen and deformed, their hair thin and grey or altogether lost. In a word, they seemed degenerated or on their way to die. To cap it all, they were dirty, and their emaciated bodies were covered only with patches of leather and straps of bast. However, as I was watching them with amazement and pity, some returned my gaze. Their eyes shined with the light of reason. I realized that those beings were thinking and feeling like us, even if they were not able to talk._

Zeus was sitting amidst all Olympians and a few other gods. His unfriendly look showed that he had not forgiven the quarrel. After a cold greeting, he moved to the substance:

‘Your humans must learn to honor us and to give us a part of every animal they kill. We call this sacrifice. They often hunt wild beasts, and we have recently given them livestock to breed. You have the task to determine which part of the sacrificial animal will be donated to the Olympian gods and which one will be kept by the humans. You will slaughter an ox and divide it into two parts, approximately equal in quantity but different in quality. The better part will be for the Olympians and the other one for the humans. This must be accomplished before noon. Do you accept the task?’

Prometheus didn’t feel like he really had a choice. Everybody was looking at him. He didn’t like the task, but if he refused it, it would have been a public admission that he was good for nothing. So he accepted.

Hermes led him down the stream. Behind them, four satyrs were leading the sacrificial ox. Their quick glances told the titan that they were sympathizing with him but not going to risk their skins for him. When they left the camp behind, Hermes came to the stream and stopped there. At his command, the satyrs also stopped and stepped back, releasing the ox. One of them gave Prometheus an axe, another one handed a knife. The axe had a jagged blade but was otherwise fit, while the knife was quite blunt. Then Hermes said:

‘You can start. You know what you ought to do.’

‘Won’t your assistants at least hold the ox while I am slaughtering it?’

‘No, the job is yours. If it is beyond your abilities, just say it.’

‘A nice place you chose for me, no shade till the horizon.’

‘Maybe you wish to muddy the stream with blood under the Thunderer’s nose? You have water and suitable rocks here. Get to work now, for you haven’t a whole day to waste.’

About this at least he was right. Prometheus concentrated to control his limbs and not let them tremble. Now, it was important not to show his insecurity to the animal. He took the axe with pretended carelessness and said in a reassuring voice:

‘Just a little patience, oxie, and you’ll never again feel hunger or fatique.’ He approached the animal and stood by its side, as if he would plow with it. ‘No yoke anymore.’ His right hand clutched the axe handle as he prepared to strike. ‘I am actually doing you a favor. They say that even death is better than the yoke.’ He quickly stepped forward and hit the ox on the head to stun it. The first blow was not enough, so he hit a second time. The animal collapsed to the ground. Prometheus cut its neck veins with the axe blade and stepped aside.

‘A sloppy start,’ Hermes remarked, watching the agony of the ox.

‘I’ll take a notice,’ replied Prometheus. He looked at the so-called knife they had given him, left it aside and brought out instead his own knife from the backpack. He knelt by the ox, lifted its head and cut its throat. Black blood flew and the victim finally died.

‘I wish you luck with your work,’ said Hermes with a mocking smile. Then he went away, followed by the satyrs. The sun was slowly rising over the empty field stained with blood-red poppies and now also with a large pool of dark blood.

First, he had to wash out the blood. He brought the copper pot out of the backpack and brought water from the stream. The blunt knife proved useful after all – Prometheus used it to dig a groove in the ground to drain the bloody water. He had to make a plan how to accomplish his task. The work would be hard enough for the muscles, but the real difficulty was in his head. The appearance and smell of blood and especially of entrails was nauseating for Prometheus. It would make his hands tremble and hang helplessly, and his mind would stop working. This shameful weakness afflicted him during the war. It seemed that all combatants had been damaged in various ways, and this was his. He tried to keep it secret and for some time succeeded, but gradually it became known to everybody. This was apparently why Zeus had assigned him the task – to torment him and ridicule him publicly, which seemed to be more important than the actual accomplishment of the work. Nevertheless, the work would be done, Prometheus promised himself. He could overcome his weakness when he really had to. He had sewn the cleft lip of Hephaestus. And Apollo himself had called him to help in the treatment of Glaucus son of Nereus.

Prometheus took his own knife again, cut the skin of the abdomen and pulled it aside. Then he cut the flesh and the omentum. This exposed the entrails lying below. He drew a deep breath and, trying to look only with the edge of one eye, took out the liver and brought it to the water. Of all the entrails, the liver was most nauseating for him. He knew that he had to remove the gallbladder quickly and carefully, otherwise everything would be stained in green. He threw it into the stream and washed the liver, almost dropping it into the stream twice. Then he returned to the body and tucked the liver under the giant stomach so that to hide it from view for a while.

So far so good. Prometheus made several steps aside and sat down, supporting himself on his elbows. Regardless of the urgency, he had to rest a little, because he was feeling dizzy and sparkling red dots were obscuring his vision. He lied down on the grass and looked at the mercifully blue sky. He quickly recovered enough to be able to think again. His mind returned to the task given by Zeus. It was not only difficult and ill-intentioned but also wrong. The life of humans was nasty, brutish and short anyway. Now, the Olympians had given them farm animals just to take the nice meat back. The humans, for all their toil, were to be happy with the leftovers. When was this brilliant idea conceived? Prometheus remembered an old conversation with Zeus from the time when he still submitted his reports personally. 

There was nothing special in the new report, but the Thunderer was holding a previous report by the titan and wanted to discuss it.

‘Whom have you designated as MA625?’

‘I cannot tell you,’ Prometheus replied, standing in front of the throne. Zeus never invited his visitors to take a seat and didn’t even keep chairs in the throne room.

‘There is no “cannot”. Have you forgotten, or you simply do not want to tell?’

‘I have not forgotten, but I cannot tell, because I promise the researched subjects to keep them anonymous. MA625 trusted me and I cannot betray his trust.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Prometheus replied, slightly surprised that the question was asked at all.

‘Why so?’

If the previous question was surprising, this one deserved a special prize for audacity. Prometheus opened his mouth to remind Zeus about Asteria, but remembered in time the ban over her name and named another victim:

‘You destroyed my cousin Metis.’

Metis, daughter of Oceanus, was Zeus’ first wife. He had diminished and swallowed her because of a prophecy that she would give birth to a son of overbearing spirit, king of gods and men. The event had deeply shocked Prometheus. Not only had Metis been his best friend, but the very reason he had stood against Cronus had been the latter’s habit to swallow his children so that not to be overthrown by them. Prometheus had decided that Cronus had lost the moral right to rule, therefore had taken the side of Zeus against his own family, and then Zeus had turned out to be the same as his father!

‘Metis is now one with me and gives me wise counsel from inside,’ Zeus said.

This outrageous lie stunned the titan, so he replied with some delay:

‘She will give you even better counsel from outside. Why don’t you let her enjoy the light of day? A good surgeon is all that is needed – and your consent, of course.’

Had Zeus consented, Prometheus would find himself in a difficult situation. But this was not expected and did not happen.

‘No way,’ the Thunderer said. ‘Metis was a threat to the cosmic order while she was outside. And I see that the same goes for MA625. What have you written about him? “Mental capacity significantly below average but within normal limits” – apparently this is a roundabout way to call him stupid. “Predisposed to aggression. The thread of life contains the male determinant in a double dose. However, causation should not be presumed without additional data, because this might be a mere coincidence.” If the aggression is written in the thread of life, it is incurable, isn’t it? Hence, this MA is a public threat, and I insist to know who he is.’

MA625 was the code of Ares, the eldest son of Zeus and Hera. He had been a wastrel since childhood, not doing anything useful and always seeking someone to pick a fight with. Zeus sometimes said about him that if Ares were not his son, he would be lower than the Titans in Tartarus so that there would be peace. However, no matter what shortcomings Ares had, his father had no right to poke his nose into the report about him. 

‘Better don’t read my works,’ Prometheus said. ‘You cannot understand them and only worry unnecessarily. This text describes just a hypothesis, and you have built an entire tower over it and now you are lashing out against someone who has not done and will not do you any harm!’

‘Then, why did you write this hypothesis if nothing can be built over it?’ Zeus asked, stressing on the unknown word. He later admitted to Athena that he had heard it before but had thought it to be the name of some obscure nymph.

‘Writing helps me put my thoughts in order. MA625 is no threat to you. But even if he were, I would not betray him, after I have promised him otherwise. This is not the way to do science. You entrusted this work to me, and now you are bullying me because I am trying to do it properly!’

‘I don’t like how you are doing it, and I will seriously consider giving it to someone else.’

‘It would be a relief for me.’

‘But then you will receive no food and will have to rely on alms. Or you will learn first-hand what hunger is, and so will those who depend on you.’

Prometheus was looking at him and wondering where Zeus of his youth had disappeared, the inspiring orator who before the war had promised to lead them to a bright future and had convinced not only him but even clever Metis. Now, Zeus was giving only threats... What a stunning metamorphosis did power cause in some! Old Cronus, at least, hadn’t been a hypocrite.

‘Besides you, I work also for Demeter,’ Prometheus said, ‘and I earn enough to make a living and support my family. And if you release me from the research of deviations and mortality, I’ll work for her even more.’

‘Why do you go to the fields instead of devoting yourself entirely to your appointed task?’

The titan thought that Zeus sometimes talked like a ten-year-old, so answered patiently, as if to a ten-year-old:

‘Because, if the fields are not plowed in time, we all shall learn first-hand what hunger is.’

‘I have given more than a hundred of the best nymphs to work for Demeter.’ Zeus was speaking of the maidens, some of whom were his daughters, as if they were machines or beasts of draught.

‘They work as much as they can, but they cannot do everything. I have told you a long time ago that this work requires machines. Hephaestus has already designed them. Only your permission is needed.’

‘Oh yes, and also a tremendous quantity of metal and fuel. Both Hephaestus and you have got dash and do not care at all about scarce resources.’

‘Your thunderbolts take much more metal and fuel. Why do you need so many of them? We are at peace now.’

‘This is none of your business. Better say why the nymphs cannot plow and need your help.’

‘Because their bodies are weak. The plow requires male strength.’

‘Then, why don’t they recruit satyrs to do it?’

‘They are not fit. They are wayward. They will work for half an hour, then change their mood and go to do something else.’

‘Why do nymphs obey but not satyrs?’

‘It is based on sex. The male sex brings the needed strength, but also unsuitable behavior.’

‘You mean satyrs are unruly? Like bulls and stallions?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I wonder, if they are castrated while still young...’

‘What?’ Prometheus initially thought he had misheard. ‘There’s something wrong with you of the house of Cronus, always anxious to castrate someone!’

This was an unfair remark, for it was no fault of Zeus that his father Cronus had once castrated his grandfather Uranus. But Prometheus was so shocked that he said the first thing that came to the top of his tongue. Zeus in fact took no offense because he was concentrated on his own thoughts. After a little while, he asked:

‘And you, why do you obey? Why do you work?’

Prometheus shrugged his shoulders.

‘Because the work must be done.’

‘Then, why don’t the satyrs work as well?’

‘They cannot understand that one must work. They haven’t so much sense.’

‘I see. However, I still don’t want you to work in the field. The job I have given to you is more important. Isn’t there anyone else to plow? Why exactly you?’

‘Because, when Demeter asks the others to help, everyone asks, “Why exactly me?” And no one wants to plow, though all want to eat. MA625 also refuses. Identify him by this if you can!’

‘You are too insolent. Your tongue will get you in trouble some day. Anyway, thank you for reporting this problem to me. I will think about it.’

_Shortly after this, Athena and Hephaestus were ordered to create the Silver Generation. With the specific requirement to make the humans smarter than satyrs. At that time, I didn’t know of this project, which was kept in secrecy. I learned of it much later, and did not make the connection between the two events. Only now, as I was lying alone under the sun of Mecone, I understood why Zeus wanted humans._

As Prometheus was writing this in his diary, he did not elaborate what exactly he had figured out. Alas, he could not write down his thoughts as he wanted, and he often had to cut them in half. However, it was clear enough. Zeus wanted humans to do the work for which machines seemed too expensive, satyrs were unfit, oxen hadn’t enough sense, and nymphs hadn’t enough strength. In a word, he wanted intelligent and skilled beasts of draught. Humans were meant to serve gods, to spend their short lives in never-ending hard work and then be robbed of its fruit. Pronoia had immediately sensed something fishy, while Prometheus had naively worked on the human project for a decade without feeling any suspicion. Zeus had told him only that humans were needed to form a supporting community for the mortal descendants of immortals. And there was something true in his words. Zeus’ lies were plausible and could be believed for a while exactly because they contained bits of distorted truth. The children of Prometheus and his ilk would live among humans and serve as a cheap workforce like them.

What could be done now? Hermes had actually helped Prometheus by choosing for him a spot so far from the camp that nobody could see what he was doing. Hermes himself with the satyrs was resting under the only tree in sight. It was not quite at the horizon, but was too far for detailed observation. Prometheus stood up and went to the animal. The ugly stomach was lying over the cut abdomen, hiding everything else. The liver was beneath it, but nothing of it could be seen and if Prometheus had not placed it himself, he would never guess where it was.

And then he got an idea what to do. He realized it was up to him to reserve for the humans whatever share he wanted, and to trick Zeus to do his bidding. He thought what part to give to the humans and what to the Olympians, so that to make sure that his creations would have meat to eat, and on the other hand, to label for the Olympians enough to appease Zeus. But then another thought came to his mind. Why appease Zeus? What had Zeus done to deserve appeasement? Nothing, and plenty to deserve the opposite. He had killed Asteria, raped countless other goddesses and nymphs, swallowed Metis, imprisoned the titans in Tartarus for indefinite time, thrown Hephaestus off Olympus (twice), denied ambrosia to those he did not like, and encouraged Apollo to torture, rape and kill. He had lied to Prometheus, and now wanted to humiliate and destroy him. Looking at the endless plain of Mecone, covered by poppies like the grave of Daphne, the titan felt a wave of anger that swept away the last remnants of prudence. He wanted now not just to spare some food for the humans (actually, he was no longer thinking of the humans at all), but to challenge the very idea of Zeus’ omnipotence. What had Hephaestus said in their last conversation? That any resistance would be futile, because Zeus was too clever. Maybe it would help if everybody saw that their ruler wasn’t that clever after all. Or maybe it wouldn’t. But Prometheus knew that if he missed this chance, he would regret till the end of time.

Once he decided, the work went smoothly. He had to use the morning hours, before heat became unbearable. Using flat rocks as working surfaces, he skinned the ox, removed the entrails and the fat, cut the meat and collected the bones. Then he put everything eatable – the meat and the washed, fat-covered entrails – into the rear half of the ox hide, and arranged the bones into the front half. He cut a narrow band of skin and used it to constrict the hide through the middle to separate the two portions. After that, Prometheus placed the unpleasant-looking stomach over the meat, and covered the bones with shining white fat. Now, it could not be seen what was lying below, and the anterior portion looked better. 

After Prometheus waived to signal that he was ready, Hermes came with the assistants, visibly surprised. The satyrs took the hide with its content, and all went to the camp. Gods, satyrs and humans stood back to let them pass. So they approached Zeus. Prometheus told the satyrs to put the animal on the ground with the rear part forward. As he expected, the Thunderer did not like the stomach.

‘Son of Iapetus, most glorious of all lords,’ he said sarcastically, ‘how unfairly you have divided the portions!’

‘Zeus, most glorious and greatest of the immortal gods,’ answered Prometheus in the same style, ‘take whichever of these portions your heart within you bids.’

Immortals and mortals were silently standing in a circle around them and watching like an audience of a drama. Prometheus, however, felt more like on a battlefield. He had just declared a rebellion, and was even holding a weapon – the knife which he had used and then forgotten to put aside. The stakes were high, and he did not really expect to win in the end. But here and now… Prometheus looked Zeus in the face and smiled.

Zeus had of course figured out that there was some trick. Maybe he had guessed that the outward appearance of the two portions was deceptive. However, if he chose the worse-looking portion, this would have been a public concession that he didn’t deserve extraordinary honors. He would admit that he was not an omniscient and omnipotent personification of the cosmic order but just an individual whose job was to organize the tasks. Zeus had no good choice now, a situation in which he usually put others. And he did what Prometheus expected. He stepped towards the front half of the ox, took the fat in both hands and lifted it. As he saw the white bones below, anger grasped his face.

‘Son of Iapetus, clever above all!’ he spoke. ‘So you have not yet forgotten your cunning arts!’ Then he composed himself, looked at the audience and said: ‘The planned work has been accomplished. You are all dismissed!’

The atmosphere relaxed. Immortals and mortals slowly dispersed and sat down on the grass to have a lunch. Prometheus did the same, choosing a place aside from the others. Thought he was feeling no hunger, he tried to eat a piece of bread, but his mouth was dry and he could not swallow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate aftermath of the sacrifice trick.

A little later, Kratos brought Prometheus to Hermes for interrogation.

‘For how long have you been in a conspiracy against Zeus?’

‘There is no conspiracy.’

‘Do you think me so foolish? You are in enough trouble, don’t make it even worse! Tell about the plot and reveal your accomplices, or you will be put to torture. This is what Zeus said, and you know that he speaks no empty words.’

‘I swear by the waters of Styx that I am in no conspiracy against Zeus and have no accomplices!’

Hermes was visibly disappointed, but the oath proved that Prometheus was telling the truth. So he moved to the subject of the sacrifice itself.

‘Why did you make sure that the creatures of a day receive everything edible, and Olympians just the bones and a little fat?’

‘Because only the bones and the purest fat have any chance to be brought from the human dwellings to Olympus without going bad, and they would be useful even in this case.’

‘Nonsense! Zeus whose wisdom is everlasting has found a solution for this problem.’

‘Then maybe you should have told me about this before I started work.’

‘The idea was for Olympians to pay visits to the humans and eat there, and so take their share.’

Prometheus had not expected this. Without trying to hide his surprise, he said:

‘This cannot be! Immortal gods and mortal humans to feast together, sitting side by side… Olympians to inhale the stench of these ragged shaggy wretches, to eat food prepared by their unwashed hands, and possibly to be harassed upon by lice and fleas… Who would guess it?’

Hermes was about to respond angrily, but cast a look at a group of humans sitting nearby, saw that Prometheus had the facts on his side and reconsidered. Instead, he asked:

‘What use can be the bare bones and the fat?’

‘Fat is fuel and raw material to produce soap and many other essential substances. Bones are a source of phosphorus, for which otherwise we must mine.’

‘Are you claiming that you are loyal to Zeus and the Olympians?’

‘I have nothing against the Olympians as a whole. Some of my best friends are Olympians. I am on bad terms with Zeus, mostly because of my relations in Tartarus. But I continue doing whatever work he gives to me. I was even surprised that he chose me for today’s task, but I did not decline it.’

‘If you meant the bones for the Olympians, why did you place the ox with the meat closer to Zeus?’

‘Well, I couldn’t put the Olympian portion into the rear part of the ox, could I? Nor would it be appropriate to turn the rear end to the audience, with Zeus in the background. I had placed the stomach on the meat to mark this portion as inferior. Anyway, I knew that Zeus would make the right choice. He is more intelligent than any of us, and I hope you are not claiming that he has been deceived by me!’

Hermes started to look confused. He asked the same questions with other words. This continued for a long time, but Hermes did not obtain any satisfying answers. Finally, he ended with an order:

‘Now, go home without any more funny business and stay there until they come to take you. Don’t think of flight or resistance, or it will become worse for you. Put your work in order so that it can be continued by someone else. And prepare warm clothes and blankets, for it is a little cold in Tartarus.’

As soon as Pronoia saw her husband, she figured out that something bad had happened. She stood silent, with widely open eyes and clutched hands.

‘I challenged Zeus, and I am now expecting to be imprisoned,’ Prometheus said without a greeting or a prelude. ‘Don’t be afraid! You know I am not fated to die.’

‘Let’s run away!’ she cried. ‘The Earth is vast! Let’s settle far from here and find peace!’

‘I am not going anywhere. You could if you wish so, but I think they will leave you alone. You have nothing to do with my deeds, and they know it.’

_I haven’t written much these days, because I was busy with putting my work in order, as Hermes had told me. Until now, I have always done this at the end of the year, while preparing the annual report. In the future, I’ll maintain the current records so that they are ready to be transferred to someone else at any moment. I wouldn’t want people to say that I didn’t do my job properly._

The work was not the only reason why Prometheus didn’t write in his diary in the first days after his return from Mecone. Another, more important reason was that the diary itself, together with some other compromising materials, was hidden in the wood, in a hole under the roots of a pine tree.

However, in the morning of the fourth day Prometheus felt relaxed. He sensed that the danger was over, at least for now. Hermes visited him at noon and confirmed this.

‘Hail!’ he greeted calmly and almost friendly, as if their conversation in Mecone had hot happened. ‘This time you got away, titan, but you must be very careful in the future. Listen now, so that you don’t later say again that you haven’t been told. First, you will be responsible for the deeds of your humans from now on. Second, they must never, under any circumstances, be given fire! You were too generous in giving them meat, let them eat it raw. Zeus has issued a strict ban, here it is.’ He brought out a transcript and showed it to Prometheus. ‘Sign on the back that you have been informed. Write small, so that there is space for everyone.’

Prometheus took the quill and wrote his name below the others.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Hesiod's _Theogony_.
> 
> Because the Trick at Mecone is not mentioned in the play _Prometheus Bound_ , it is little known to the general public. However, if Bruce Lincoln is right in his theory that the Proto-Indo-European creation myth included twin brothers, a bovine, and a sacrifice, then the Trick at Mecone can well be a Greek version of this myth (I have developed this idea [elsewhere](http://mayas-corner.blogspot.com/2014/12/yima-iranian-prometheus.html)).
> 
> While I am forever indebted to Hesiod for telling us the story, I am not quite happy with the way he has presented it. Prometheus comes out of nowhere. Until he materializes at Mecone, knife in hand, we are told only of his origin: that he is the third son of the titan Iapetus and neat-ankled Clymene. While it is nice to know that the individual occupying – together with Zeus – center stage in the _Theogony_ has not been born by the grey sea and the beetling cliffs, this is hardly enough. What has he done during the War of the Titans? What is his relation to humans? Why does he agree (or even volunteer) to do the first sacrifice, and then uses it to challenge Zeus? Is he, like Zeus, driven by _menis_ (cosmic anger, like that of Achilles in the _Iliad_ )? These questions remain hanging.
> 
> With Zeus, it is even worse: his behavior is illogical. He tells Prometheus, ‘You have not forgotten your cunning arts,’ apparently meaning an earlier (attempted) deception. What is he hinting at? And, more importantly, why did he then entrust the task exactly to Prometheus? You have a super important, one-time job, and you give it to a person who has already been disloyal to you… really Zeus? 
> 
> So I tried to fill in the gaps and to endow the characters with logical motivation. The concept that, once the division of the ox is done, Zeus “cannot choose either portion without losing face”, is from K. Stoddard, _The Narrative Voice in the Theogony of Hesiod_. Prometheus of course feels sick from the sight of blood and entrails (esp. liver) because of what will happen to him later. The idea of a traumatic experience in the future sending PTSD flashbacks backward is from Terry Pratchett's _The Colour of Magic_.
> 
> Signing orders on the back, so that you cannot later claim that you don’t know, is a procedure at my workplace. In Ares’ code, the number is random but “ma” is from “machaon”, fighter. My gods write in Linear B, so abbreviations are the first syllable rather than the first consonant. I found it amusing to give Ares an extra Y chromosome and a discussion whether this had caused his aggressiveness.


End file.
